


Eternity's End

by GalaxyOwl13



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awesome Clara Oswin Oswald, Backstory, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Clara Oswin Oswald's Death, Complete, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossing Timelines, Danny Pink's Death, Doctor Who Feels, Endings, Episode: s09e10 Face the Raven, Episode: s12e09 Ascension of the Cybermen, F/M, Gallifrey, Gen, Goodbyes, Memories, Memory Loss, Mentioned Danny Pink, Minor Clara Oswin Oswald/Danny Pink, Minor Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald, Not A Fix-It, POV Clara Oswin Oswald, Sad, Sad Ending, Season/Series 08, Spoilers for Episode: s12e09 Ascension of the Cybermen, The Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald Friendship, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey, Trigger Warning: Memory Loss, Twelfth Doctor Era, multi-chapter, not necessarily romantic, not super shippy, three parter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyOwl13/pseuds/GalaxyOwl13
Summary: Clara Oswald is the Impossible Girl. Sure, it should be impossible to live forever, but that's not going to stop her. Travelling around in a stolen TARDIS with Me, Clara has spent centuries seeing the universe. But when she ends up meeting the Doctor from an earlier point in her timeline aboard a Cyberman ship, she realizes that she can't keep going on like this. After all this time, she barely even remembers him. Thrown into the future, specifically the middle of the Cyberwars, Clara's got one last adventure with the Doctor. With the help of Me, Clara and the Doctor must work with a team of rebels to transport the Cyberium to the past, setting up the events of The Haunting of Villa Diodati.This is the story of how Clara returns to Trap Street; her final adventure before she faces the raven.
Relationships: Clara Oswin Oswald/Danny Pink, The Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Kudos: 12





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a group of friends, and not all of them have heard anything about Doctor Who other than me talking about how excited I was that the Master was back. Thus, there's some explaining. I've worked it into the story, but I'm not trying to insult your memory by reminding you about certain key events; this was to make sure everyone could understand the story. Certain parts of this can be interpreted as Clara/Twelfth Doctor, but they don't have to be, and there is some minor Danny Pink/Clara Oswald. I had just watched Dark Water/Death in Heaven when I wrote most of this, and was very emotional.

_My name is Clara Oswald, and I am the Impossible Girl. I travelled through time and space with the Doctor in his TARDIS, and saw things you could never imagine. I sacrificed myself to save him, entering his timeline and fracturing myself into a million people, all throughout history. And all throughout time, I was always running, always will be running, to save the Doctor._

_No one can survive entering another’s time stream, but the Doctor has never been one for endings. He saved me, and I lived. The Impossible Girl._

_I was with him when he regenerated, and in time, I learned to trust the new man he became. I ran away with him. And everything was as it should be. Clara Oswald, with the Doctor, in the TARDIS. Running. Running forever, because he can never ever stop._

_Until one day I flew too close to the sun. A friend of mine was framed by Ashildr, a girl that the Doctor had saved and cursed to immortality. The Time Lords forced her to do it, to lure the Doctor into a trap. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt—she had already made a deal with the Quantum Shade, the raven, her executioner._

_Only she took me under her protection, promised that no harm would come to me. So, I convinced Rigsby to give me the tattoo to buy us time. Ashildr’s bargain with The Raven that she could remove the tattoo from Rigsby. But not from me._

_On November 21 st, 2017, I stood in the street as the Quantum Shade flew towards my chest, a smoky black raven that would be my death. “Let me be brave,” I whispered, and then I died. My story was over._

_But the Doctor has never been one for endings. He forced the Time Lords to extract me from my timeline, frozen between one heartbeat and the next. He ran away with me, but we were too dangerous to stay together. I reversed the polarity of his neural blocker rather than let him erase my memories, and he didn’t believe me. The Doctor was the one who lost his memory. Lost his memory of me._

_I stole a TARDIS and ran away. Ran away with Ashildr from the mess that I had made with the Doctor. “Where are we going?” Ashildr asked._

_“Gallifrey,” I told her. Because I wasn’t even alive. No matter what, I die. But I had become like the Doctor. And I had learned from him. One day, I would return to my timestream and face the raven. But until then, I could run. “Like I said, Gallifrey.”_

_“The long way around.”_

***

The room was white, sterile. Everything about it was perfectly even, down to the roundels on the walls. One side of the room was taken up by panels with rectangular lights, lined up in neat little rows. The TARDIS console sat near the center of the room, filled with blinking lights and various artronometers and radiometers and other -ometers that Clara really didn’t care to memorize the names of.

“So,” said Ashildr—or Me, as she preferred to be called— “where to next?”

Clara closed her eyes, thinking. “We can’t keep running forever,” she said, leaning on the console to watch Me’s reaction.

“And no one can live forever,” Me said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the Impossible Girl. You can do anything you want.”

“But there you are,” Clara said. “No one can live forever.” Unconsciously, she pressed two fingers against her wrist to check her pulse. As always, there was nothing. She wasn’t even certain that she remembered what it felt like, to have her heart pumping blood through her body, to be truly alive.

Me rolled her eyes. “You think you’ve lived for a while,” Me said. “Believe me, you haven’t. I’ve reached the end of the world the long way around, and I’m still here.”

Clara shook her head. “I’m not even alive,” she reminded her. “Frozen between one heartbeat and the next. Because the Doctor couldn’t just let me die.”

“Daleks,” Me said. “At 9-33-27-0-3/5-9. Burning up a planet. We could save them, if you want.”

“And you _don’t_ want to,” Clara guessed.

Me shrugged. “What’s the point? Those people will die anyway in a few years. But we could go. Play hero. They’ll sing songs about us and we’ll become legends. Is that what you want?”

“What I want,” Clara said, frustrated, “is to be travelling with the Doctor. And no, it’s not your fault, so don’t even try that.”

“Clom. The forests of Cheem. Padrivole Regency 9. Voga. Neogorgon. Anywhere in the universe. See anything, do anything,” Me said, circling the console with one hand trailing on the cold white surface.

“Earth,” Clara said quietly. “I want to go to Earth. 2017.”

Me shrugged with one shoulder. “Fine with me.” Clara pulled a lever, setting the galactic coordinates with a dial, a few buttons, and a switch. Me took care of the temporal coordinates, flying around the console. Clara listened to the sound of the TARDIS phasing in and out. Technically, that sound was what happened when the brakes were left on, but it reminded Clara of the Doctor. He would call it the most wonderful sound in the world.

Not that she could even remember what he really looked like anymore, or what he sounded like. Human brains simply weren’t designed to last centuries, and like Me, she didn’t have enough space for her memories. Now, the most she could remember of her childhood was her mother, and even that had faded away over the years. After spending over six hundred years travelling with Me in the stolen TARDIS, Clara had forgotten almost as much about the Doctor as he had been forced to forget about her.

“Here we are,” Me said. A hatch opened in the paneling of their TARDIS, revealing a hidden compartment. Me removed two guns from it. She handed one to Clara, and began to walk towards the door.

“Most humans don’t exactly go around carrying large guns in their hands. We won’t exactly be inconspicuous.”

Me rolled her eyes. “Immortals can die too, you know, if you kill them right.” She would know—at the end of time, there had been only one person left. Just Me. Somehow, Me had outlasted all of the other immortals.

“Twenty-first century Earth,” Clara said. “No one’s going to be killing anybody.”

“Isn’t this where you come from?” Me asked. “Crossing your own timestream…that’s dangerous.”

“What’s life without a bit of risk?” Clara said.

“That’s what got you killed,” Me reminded her. “Taking _stupid_ risks.”

“Oi! Not dead yet!”

“They have a low-grade perception filter,” Me said. “No one will notice a thing.”

“The Doctor didn’t like guns,” Clara remembered suddenly. “I should write that down, somewhere.” She had given up recording her memories about fifty years ago, but she still occasionally wrote notes to herself on a whim.

“You can when we get back. Come on.” Me shook her head. “Twenty-first century Earth. Of all of time and space, twenty-first century Earth.”

Clara shrugged, opening the door. “That’s where I’m from.” She stepped out of the TARDIS, Me close behind her. And then she looked out.

Wherever they were, it definitely wasn’t twenty-first century Earth. This was fairly obvious, with the giant spaceship in the sky and the people carrying giant guns. They shouted, firing into the smoke that surrounding the whole scene. A shot of red energy flew right past their heads, just barely missing the TARDIS, which had taken the form of a large grey rock to blend into the surroundings. Clara pulled the TARDIS key necklace that she wore off her neck, trying to insert the key into the lock, but fumbling. The TARDIS began to phase out.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Clara said. She turned, but her hands slipped, and the TARDIS disappeared, taking the key with it. “I told you!” She yelled. “Don’t turn the emergency relocation back on!”

“Well, I didn’t think this would happen,” Me protested “It can’t have left the planet, just…gone somewhere safer. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.” Another shot missed them by inches, and then out of the smoke came an army.

Their metal skin was bright and clean, untouched by the war around them. Their heads were square-like, with large circular holes for eyes and a thin line for a mouth. Above their forehead shined a blue light, the same as the circular bulb in their chests. The soldiers marched in perfectly strait formations, not a millimeter off, heads fixed on the enemy in front of them. Metal feet stomped in unison on the hard dirt ground, sending a flurry of dust into the air, already thick with smoke. Attached to their arms were guns, shining through the battlefield, firing off into the distance.

Clara could hear the soldiers marching all around her, a thousand deadly knights in battle. But these were not knights.

These were—

“Cybermen,” Clara whispered. “Me, if—”

“I don’t know,” Me interrupted. “Cyberconversion might stick for me.” Clara spun around to see a Cyberman standing ten or so feet away from them. Its gun was pointed straight at the two women. Me fired at it, five times in quick succession, but the red energy blasts bounced harmlessly off the creature, forcing Clara and Me to duck.

“YOU ARE COMPATIBLE,” the Cyberman said, facing Clara. “YOU WILL BE UPGRADED.”

Clara grabbed Me’s hand. “Basically—”

“Run!” Me finished for her, as the two ran off into the smoke, the Cyberman firing after them.

Everywhere Clara and Me turned, there seemed to be Cybermen, their guns releasing blue energy as they marched in formation. A troop of Cybermen emerged from nowhere. Me shot at them desperately, but the energy blast ricocheted off the soldiers, forcing Clara to pull Me to the ground. Clara ducked her head, waiting for the energy to pass. Just because she couldn’t die didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

When Clara finally looked up, the Cyberman had closed in a circle around them. _Where is the TARDIS?_ Clara wondered. _If it relocated somewhere safe…where is_ safe _when the Cybermen are destroying the planet? Are we even on Earth?_

“YOU ARE CLARA OSWALD,” said one of the Cybermen in its cold, mechanical voice. Its eyes were empty holes, and Clara couldn’t see anything behind them. Somewhere in there was a human brain, devoid of all emotion. This monster had been a person once, a scared person whom the Cybermen had taken captive and stripped the humanity from, until it was a shadow. A mindless robot with ‘biological components’. No wonder the Doctor hated soldiers.

“Yes, I am,” Clara said. She could try to convince them that she was the Doctor again, but what was the point? They hadn’t believed her the first time around. What _had_ happened the first time around? Clara had met the Cybermen before, she was sure of that. Multiple times. Chess and volcanos and a strange woman twirling around like a demented Mary Poppins. Someone had died. Someone very important had died, and she couldn’t remember who it was. “What’re you going to do about that?”

One of the Cybermen grasped Me’s arm, squeezing it so tight that Clara could hear the bones crunching. Me gasped in pain. “YOU ARE NOT COMPATIBLE,” it told her. “YOU WILL BE DELETED.” Blue energy crackled around the Cyberman’s arm, leaping onto Me and causing her to scream in pain. _Mire_ , Clara remembered as she stared in shock, her gun useless against the Cybermen. _She’s part Mire, she isn’t fully human anymore. Cybermen_ can’t _convert her._ Me slumped onto the ground, and Clara turned back to the Cybermen.

“DELETION WAS SUCCESSFUL,” one of the Cybermen announced. Then, it spoke to Clara. “YOU WILL COME.”

“Er…no I won’t,” Clara said, standing up and holding her gun. Any second now, Me’s body would begin healing her, bringing her back to life. The Cybermen would realize, and come up with a better way to kill her. Or worse, continue trying to electrocute or shoot her. Which meant Clara had to get them away from Me. She scanned the circle of Cybermen, considering her options. There weren’t any gaps large enough for her to run through—she was trapped.

“YOU WILL COME,” the Cyberman repeated. “CLARA OSWALD WILL BE BROUGHT TO CYBERCONTROL.” Clara squinted at them. _Alright_ , she thought. _The Doctor would say that the best way to find out the enemy’s plan is to get captured, right? I think that’s what he would say._ Clara shrugged. They couldn’t kill her—she wasn’t exactly alive. And even a Cyberconversion would degrade, according to Me’s calculations, although Clara wasn’t certain if the mental effects would stay. Her death was a fixed point in time; she look exactly like she had when she returned to Trap Street.

“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands. “I’ll come.” Two Cyberman grabbed her shoulders, one on either side. “You don’t need to do that,” she complained. “I said, I’m coming.” They didn’t listen, marching her through the smokey field.

Around her, Clara could hear screaming and explosions. “Rosa!” Someone screamed, their voice raw. “Rosa! Rosa! Where are you? Please! Rosa! Ro—” He stopped, abruptly, as another explosion sounded. Clara winced. It got easier, watching others die, but she was never able to completely ignore it.

Clara felt her pulse again, a nervous habit. Like always, there was nothing. Clara was a living ghost, an impossible girl whose time was up but kept on going. _I wonder how we ended up here, of all places. It’s certainly not Earth, and it’s certainly not 2017._

The Cybermen stopped marching as they reached a large disk in the ground. All of them crowded on, squeezing Clara into the center. Then, in a burst of light, the world around them disappeared.

Clara blinked, clearing the blurriness from her eyes. Dizzily, she looked around, observing that she was now in a large room. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were all cold grey metal, without a single decorative element. “So,” Clara said, looking around. “Nice place you’ve got here.” The Cybermen didn’t seem remotely interested in discussing interior design. “Where are you taking me?” Still no response. They marched until they reached a large door, which slid away to reveal a giant room.

When Clara thought giant, she meant _giant._ Around her were thousands of Cybermen, lined up in orderly rows and facing towards the front of the room. Their polished metal gleamed in the light from the blue spheres that hung around the ceiling. They had cleared a path to the front of the room, where the Cybercontroller sat. It had its brains revealed, heaping out of the top of its head, and it gleamed silver. Blue spheres hung around it, sending bolts of energy into the blue circle on its chest. The large door shut behind her, cutting off her only exit.

Clara stepped forwards tentatively. The Cybermen stayed guarding the door, so she stepped forwards again. The room was silent, except for the steady hum of machinery. And then, the Cybercontroller spoke.

If the Cybermen normally sounded frightening, then this was a voice that would strike terror into the hearts of Daleks, if Daleks could feel afraid. It was cold and clear, screaming like the voice of a Dalek, and yet confident. None of the syllables were given more emphasis than the others, and the Cybercontroller kept exactly the same tone with no variation whatsoever. “CLARA OSWALD.” Clara stepped forwards again. This was going to be a long walk. “CLARA OSWALD.”

“Yep,” Clara said. “That’s me.” Another step. _What do they want?_ She wondered. _And why do they want me in particular?_

“DOCTOR.”

Clara blinked. That was new. Had they malfunctioned, incorporated her ruse so many years ago into their systems? Did they honestly believe that she was the Doctor?

“That’s me!” Clara looked up at the ceiling. The voice had come from somewhere above them.

“HOW ARE YOU HERE?” The Cybercontroller asked.

“No.” A man said, sliding a metal panel away and jumping down. For a brief second, air started to leave the ship, but he closed the hatch up immediately with a strange tool. “That is _not_ the question.”

Clara couldn’t believe her eyes. His hair was grey, his face lined and old, his eyebrows bushy. Independently cross, he would say. The man wore a navy jacket, lined with red fabric, and in his hand was a tubular metal object with a blue light at the end—a sonic screwdriver, Clara remembered. She had read about it in notes. “Doctor?” Clara asked faintly.

“Clara?” He asked skeptically. “No, you’re not Clara.” He had a thick Scottish accent, and waved his hands around while he talked.

“Er, yes I am,” Clara said.

“No,” the Doctor said. “You’re not. You don’t… _look_ like Clara. She has this thing with the eyes, they’re too big. How do they even fit on her face? You don’t have Clara’s eyes. Very bad copy, if you ask me, which you didn’t.”

“WHAT IS YOUR INQUIRY?” The Cyberman asked.

“Oh, yes, the question,” the Doctor said.

“I _am_ Clara!” Clara protested, mostly, to avoid letting the Doctor see how surprised she was to see him. His hair was shorter than when they had parted ways for what Clara had thought was the final time, which meant that he still remembered her. This was just his inability to recognize anyone.

The Doctor squinted at her for a moment. “Clara?” He asked in disbelief. “I thought you had a thing.”

“A thing?” She asked.

The Doctor waved his hands in the air. “A thing. With your boyfriend. That you don’t say anything about. A date,” he clarified.

Clara opened her mouth to tell him she had no clue what he was talking about, before thinking better of it. He didn’t realize that she was in his future. He didn’t realize that she hadn’t seen him in six centuries. He didn’t realize how hard it was for her to keep from hugging him. “Er, yes. Date. I was on a date with…” What was his name? She had been dating someone, she realized, but she couldn’t remember his name. He hadn’t liked the Doctor. “…with my boyfriend, when the Cybermen teleported me to this place. They were fighting some sort of war. I tried to call you, but I didn’t have my phone.”

“Yes,” he said, seeming to know what he was talking about. “The Cyberiad Transportation Unit. Nasty.”

“DOCTOR.”

The Doctor turned to the Cybercontroller. “Mr. Glowy over here was sending out some very interesting Artron Energy readings.”

“YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED.”

“Forget about authorized,” the Doctor said. “You’re the one with Artron Energy readings off the charts!”

“YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED.” There was the sound of thousands of metal plates clanking in unison as the Cybermen pointed their guns at the Doctor and Clara. Instinctively, Clara began to back away. The Doctor, meanwhile, began to point the sonic screwdriver at the large sliding door behind them, to no avail.

“Uhmmm,” Clara said. “You have a plan, right? Please tell me you have a plan.”

“No plan,” the Doctor said. “I have a ‘thing’. That’s better than a plan.”

Clara just shook her head. “What thing?”

“I have a question!” He shouted.

“INFORMATION REQUEST DENIED,” the Cybercontroller announced. “HUMAN DESIGNATED CLARA OSWALD IS REQUIRED.”

“Clara Oswald is required?” The Doctor said. “And why’s that? What use is a _normal_ , _boring_ , _human_ , when you’ve got a _Time Lord_?” He waved his sonic screwdriver in the air, hopefully planning some sort of escape.

“INFORMATION REQUEST DENIED,” the Cyberman said. “THE DOCTOR IS NOT NECESSARY. HE WILL BE DELETED.”

“No, no, no, no!” The Doctor said. “There will be no _deleting_. Clara, ask them why you’re necessary.”

“Er…they won’t tell us,” she reminded him. Clara didn’t remember him being like this, barging in and forgetting incredibly obvious details. _Nostalgia?_ She wondered.

“They might listen to you. You’re _required_ , apparently.”

“Why am I necessary?” Clara asked loudly. _Come on, Doctor. Surely you have a plan._

“CLARA OSWALD WILL BE THE VESSEL.”

“The vessel for what?”

“THE CYBERIUM REQUIRES A VESSEL.” The Cybercontroller stood up from its metal throne, eyes beginning to glow with unnatural blue light. It looked _alive_ , and Cybermen were anything but that. Then, it held out its hand. From in between the joints leaked a silvery metal. It floated into the air, coalescing into a sparkling silver blob that pulsated with light.

“Right.” Clara said. “That’s the Cyberium?”

“CORRECT.”

“…Why does it need me?” Clara asked.

“INFORMATION REQUEST DENIED.”

Just then, at the worst possible moment, Clara heard a voice in her head. Me’s voice, to be precise. **Clara. Clara Oswald, are you there? Can you hear me?**

 _What?_ Clara thought. _How is Me in my head?_

“Clara?” The Doctor asked, concerned. He grabbed her hand, waved the sonic screwdriver around, and smiled at the Cybercontroller. “Thank you for all the information,” he said. The blue spheres around them began to spin, and then the two time travelers disappeared in a flash of light.

Everything was dark. Why was everything so dark? Clara hadn’t died, had she? She was immortal, she couldn’t die? So why was everything so dark? _No! I’ve been converted into a Cyberman!_ There was a sharp, stabbing pain behind her eyes.

**Clara. You can open your eyes, you know.**

_Oh, right_ , Clara thought, feeling silly.

**I hacked your optic nerve; I should be able to see what you see now.**

Clara looked around. She and the Doctor were in a small metal room, with a thin rectangle section of the wall slightly sticking out. Clara stood up, confused. “Where are we, and how did we get here?”

 **Good question** , Me said.

 _How are you doing that?_ Clara thought.

**You can’t ‘think’ to me, in case you were wondering. You have to talk.**

The Doctor, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the door, didn’t look over at her. “I teleported us away. Unfortunately, I had to teleport us to the only short-ranged coordinates I knew weren’t already occupied.”

“How are you doing that?” Clara whispered.

“Are you talking to me?” The Doctor said without turning around. “Or are you talking on the phone to your _boyfriend_?”

“Er…I’m talking to myself,” she lied. “Like, you know, ‘oh, Clara, why do you keep getting yourself into trouble’?” She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was actually speaking with the Doctor. Clara had thought that she would never see him again—they were far too dangerous to stay together, nearly forming an entity that Gallifreyan legend would stand over the ruins of the planet. The Hybrid. Despite her fleeting memories, Clara remembered that well.

 **The nanobots that the TARDIS uses to translate** , Me explained. **I found the TARDIS. That’s the good news.**

“Bad news?” Clara asked, even more quietly. The Doctor didn’t notice, this time.

**Bad news is I can’t get the TARDIS functioning without an influx of energy. Something drew it here.**

“Can you get us out?” Clara asked the Doctor and Me.

The Doctor shook his head. “The lock’s deadlock sealed.”

“Everything’s deadlocked sealed, for some reason,” Clara said. “It’s like the universe has a grudge against your sonic screwdriver.”

“It doesn’t.” The Doctor seemed rather offended.

“I know,” Clara said. “I was joking.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. So, what do we do now?” Clara asked.

 **Hold on** , Me told her. **I think I can get into the networks from the TARDIS, if you give me a moment.**

“That’ll drain the charge,” Clara whispered.

 **The TARDIS isn’t going anywhere** , Me reminded her. **There’s not much we’ll be using the power for.**

“Life support?”

“Life support,” the Doctor said. “Clara, life support!”

“Oh. Erm, yes,” Clara said, swinging her arms. “Life support. Is there enough air? If the door’s deadlock sealed…” Of course, she didn’t need to breathe, so it wouldn’t affect her, but the Doctor’s respiratory bypass system could last only so long.

“Wrong question,” the Doctor said.

“Well, what’s the right question then?”

“Where’s the vents?”

Clara slowly began to smile. “Right, so where _are_ the vents?” She looked around. “I can’t see any.”

“Neither can I! No. Yes. No. Shut up. Shut up, shut up.”

“I’m not talking!” Clara protested.

“Shuttity up-up-up!” Clara opened and closed her mouth like a fish. “Listen,” the Doctor whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

“I…can’t hear anything,” Clara said after a few moments had passed.

“Exactly.” The Doctor looked around, examining the walls each in turn with his sonic screwdriver. “Metal, metal, metal, no readings.” He touched the wall. “It feels like metal…but it isn’t.”

**No readings?**

“No readings?” Clara asked.

**Clara, the readings are off the charts. Artron energy. This place is—**

Me’s voice stopped abruptly, and the Doctor grinned. “Wait, no—Artron energy. This is what I came here for. This isn’t a _prison cell_ , it’s a Time Capsule!” His sonic screwdriver lit up as he scanned it over the wall. Then, the Doctor stuck his hand through the dull grey metal. Clara watched it disappear. “Come on!”

“Er, we know nothing about this except that it’s a time capsule. Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“No,” the Doctor said.

“Well, what else do we know?” Clara asked. “Me?” She whispered. “Me, are you there?”

 **…energy…interfering…charge…** Then Me was gone.

“Correction: we don’t _know_ that it’s a Time Capsule,” the Doctor said, and then stepped through the wall.

“Doctor!” Clara shouted. “Doctor! Doctor, are you alright?” She shook her head. _Five minutes with him, and he’s already doing his best to get himself killed._ “Geronimo,” Clara whispered, because the Doctor used to say that. Not in this body, but when he had been the other him, the other Doctor, before Trenzalore, before he regenerated.

Clara dived through the wall—

And hit solid metal. “Owwww,” she moaned, standing back. At least she couldn’t get bruises. Clara pressed her hands against the wall. It no longer wavered when she touched it. “Doctor!” She shouted. “Doctor! Doctor, are you there?” The Doctor didn’t respond. Somehow, the Time Capsule had closed.


	2. You Clever Boy

**Clara dived through the wall—**

**And hit solid metal. “Owwww,” she moaned, standing back. At least she couldn’t get bruises. Clara pressed her hands against the wall. It no longer wavered when she touched it. “Doctor!” She shouted. “Doctor! Doctor, are you there?” The Doctor didn’t respond. Somehow, the Time Capsule had closed.  
**

* * *

The door slid open, and a group of Cybermen marched into the room, guns pointed straight at Clara. “Uhm…hi?” She tried. “Doctor! Me? Me? Can you reach me? Doctor, the thing’s closed!” Clara pounded at the metal wall, but it didn’t even dent.

“THE TEMPORAL GATE IS CLOSED,” one of the Cybermen said. “THE CYBERIUM CANNOT BE TRANSPORTED.”

“Right,” Clara said. “The Cyberium. The shiny blobby thing. Why’s it so important?”

“MISSION HAS FAILED,” one of the Cybermen announced. The Cyberium rose from the cracks in its metal plating.

“Good,” Clara said, pressing herself against the wall. If her heart was still going, it would be hammering in her chest right now. “Good, your plan failed. Now go…away. And leave these people in peace!”

“CLARA OSWALD IS NO LONGER NECESSARY. CLARA OSWALD WILL BE DELETED!” Bolts of blue energy shot straight towards Clara. She ducked instinctively, covering her head an—

Clara was falling, falling through time and space. Something was swirling around her, tossing her this way and that way. She closed her eyes, tightly as she screamed. Clara knew that she couldn’t look, if she looked, she’d be dead, don’t look, don’t look, Clara, Clara, Clara, “Clara!”

Everything was bright. Light bombarded Clara’s eyelids, and she raised an arm to cover them.

“Clara!”

She looked up, blinking, to see the Doctor standing next to her, sonic screwdriver in hand. She lay on soft green grass, but the dirt was purple and the sky seemed to be a royal blue. Clara’s vision was fractured, a billion fragments of color and light, stabbing at her eyes. There were Cybermen, surrounding them. Of _course_ there were Cybermen. Something always had to make bad situations worse. The air near Clara shimmered for a moment, and stopped. Looking down at her hand, Clara realized something was wrong, even with her limited sight.

“Clara,” the Doctor said urgently. His voice echoed around in her head. “Clara, the Cyberium is inside of you. Can you hear me?”

Her hand was shining, coated in a silver metal. _Not coated_ , Clara thought. _It’s in me. It’s in me, and I can’t get it out!_ She shook her hand, but it only made her feel dizzier.

“The Cyberium will kill you.”

“Can’t do that,” Clara said faintly. Everything was funny, bright and funny and shiny. Her arm was shiny, wasn’t that nice? Nothing mattered, not even the silver tendrils flowing through her blood, her skin, her nerves, all the way up to her brain. Clara smiled deliriously. “Can’t do that, can it?”

“Clara, the Cyberium is trying to stay in you; once it chooses a host, it doesn’t want to leave. You have to push it out.”

“Why?” Clara asked, not that it mattered. The Cyberium slipped through her circulatory system, piercing her heart, but that didn’t matter, that didn’t matter. She didn’t need her heart; it wouldn’t pump blood through her veins. Clara was a fixed point in time until she returned to Trap Street. She was immortal. So why was she going cold? Clara couldn’t go cold; she couldn’t shiver or feel the icy metal that was reaching towards her brain.

_I can’t die, I can’t die, I can’t die._ Her vision swam, the Doctor’s face reduced to a strange collection of vague blurry dots—no, 1s and 0s, 0s and 1s, numbers, everything was just numbers. And then he wasn’t there, anymore, he was gone, the Doctor had left and she had only just found him!

The sound of Cybermen shooting filled the air as the Cyberium sunk deeper into Clara’s mind. An explosion. Clara smelled smoke, but it felt metallic. The Cyberium infiltrated her nose and mouth and ears. And suddenly, she knew that she was going to die, she was going to die (she was going to die). If Clara died here, now, then the universe would fracture, and everyone would be gone. Nonexistent. Annihilated. Destroyed.

Someone was going to save her, he always did. There was a hero out there, saving everybody, but it would be for naught. And Clara couldn’t remember his name. Who was he? He was fading away with the rest of the world, as Clara’s thoughts turned to binary code and the Cyberium filled her.

“Clara.”

_Who’s Clara?_ The Cyberium’s host wondered idly.

“Clara, you have to fight it. Remember your humanity.”

_Humans are the sole intelligent species of the planet Sol 3, and are carbon-based life like the majority of organisms in the Milky Way Galaxy._

“Your boyfriend, Clara. He’s real, right? I think he’s real. He’s not imaginary this time, is he?”

_Who?_ Wondered the brain of the girl lying on the sweet-smelling grass under the sapphire blue sky. _Boyfriend? Does not…compute._ Everything was cold and dark and numbers. The numbers were everywhere. The voice was numbers too, and the Cyberium dissociated it into frequencies and amplitudes. _The amplitude of a wave is equal to half the distance between the height of the crest and the height of the trough. A wave’s frequency is equal to the number of cycles within the domain of 2 pi._

“Your mother. Ellie Ravenwood.”

_That was her name_ , Clara thought. _My mother’s name, I remember, I remember, I remember—_

_‘E’ is the fifth letter in the English alphabet, and is the most frequently utilized letter in the English language_ , the Cyberium supplied.

“The leaf, that you gave up to save the people of Akhaten. Your mother’s leaf. Clara, you have to remember who you _are_ , you’re not the Cyberium.”

“Incorrect,” said the Cyberium.

“Step away from the girl,” a loud voice said. “You have to step away, now.” _Male, estimated age, twenty-two point eight three five nine four three six seven six four one nine two eight. Identity: unknown._

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Asked the face in front of her. Was it a face? No, just numbers, everything was just numbers in the end.

“We know how the Cyberium works, she’s gone. If you get too close, you’ll die too.”

“No. Time Lord. Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, I’m thinking.” _Male. Time Lord known as the Doctor._

_Doctor?_ Clara thought. Why did that sound familiar? It shouldn’t. It was a collection of letters, of frequencies, of sound waves and dots on a page. _Who is the Doctor?_ Clara was cold, so cold. She couldn’t see anymore, only know the numbers behind things, the ones and zeroes, the ons and offs.

_The Doctor is a Time Lord from the planet of Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous who is a wanted fugitive in over three billion societies. Date of Death: 22 April, 2011. Incorrect. Date of Death: Unknown._

“No,” the Doctor said. “You’re right. She’s gone. Clara’s not in there anymore.” That hurt, and it shouldn’t, because pain was not efficient. The Cyberium did not feel pain. Pain was not in the range of acceptable responses.

_Clara. I’m Clara. I’m Clara, Clara Oswald._

_Just letters! Numbers! Meaningless drivel!_

_Ah, there’s the English teacher talking! Drivel—never heard a Cyberman use a world like that before! Numbers are boring, when you can have feelings and words and thoughts. I’m Clara Oswald, Souffle Girl, the Impossible Girl. Companion of the Doctor. And yes, that’s over, but see, there’s the nice thing about time travel! The Doctor never liked endings, and you know what? Neither do I. And if I run hard enough, fast enough, nothing has to end. Not now. And not ever!_

“Doctor,” Clara said as the Cyberium left her, trickling out through her nose and eyes as she coughed it out of her mouth.

“Clara!” The Doctor said joyfully. She leapt up, running over to hug him. This was the Doctor; this was really him. After centuries without seeing him, after nearly all memory of him had faded from her mind, they were reunited. Yes, he was at the wrong place in her time stream, but that didn’t matter anymore. She could think of something, couldn’t she? Clara loved problems, because then she could solve them. Every problem had a solution, and she would find one to this. And then she could travel with the Doctor again and everything would be fine, absolutely perfect. “No hugging!” The Doctor protested. Clara had forgotten how the had been in the year or so following his regeneration. “I am against the hugging!” She smiled sadly, wishing that she had never had to leave the Doctor.

But as she held onto him, the Cyberium swirled around him, plunging into his skin. The second Clara noticed, she backed away, horrified. “Doctor! Doctor…did I…?”

“No,” he said, shaking. “The Cyberium’s been displaced. And it’s found the nearest viable host.”

“Get away from him!” A man shouted. Clara looked around to see several Cybermen lying deactivated on the ground, and a small group of four people carrying guns standing a few feet back. “He’s dangerous now!”

“No,” the Doctor said again, spinning around. For an instant, Clara was reminded of another time when the Doctor had been taken over by Cybermen. Yes, that had happened, she remembered, along time ago, when he had looked different. Then, it faded, as he continued speaking. “Not dangerous, for now. Lots of information, lots of new knowledge. Cyberium. It’s the databanks of the Cybermen, only _alive_! You sent it back in time, to hide from the Cybermen, only…you didn’t send it back far enough,” he explained, gesticulating wildly.

“We didn’t have enough power!” Protested one of the female soldiers.

“Ah, but you’ve got me, now, and I’m a genius.” He paused. “Clara, go with them. I’ll follow. And you,” he said to the soldiers. “Stop waving your _guns_ around, you look _silly_.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” said another soldier, hefting his gun, “we’re fighting a war.”

“He’s infected, we should shoot him now, contain the Cyberium.”

“No!” Clara said. “You can’t. He’s your only hope of sending it back.”

“This man,” one of the soldiers told her, “is suggesting detrimental tactics, and it isn’t even a convincing display of humanity.”

“He’s always like that,” Clara said.

“Like an egomaniac?”

Clara nodded.

“That’s not _fair_ ,” the Doctor protested. “ _I_ am not the egomaniac. _You’re_ the one who said nothing was more important than your egomania.”

“Did I?” Clara asked, squinting.

“Alright,” one of the soldiers said. “Follow us. Any funny moves, and we’ll shoot him. Understand?”

“You can’t just go around threatening to _shoot_ people, it’s rather—”

“Yep,” Clara said brightly, interrupting him. “We understand.”

They followed the group of soldiers through the battlefield. On the other side of a large hill, Clara could hear the sound of explosions in the distance, but she tried not to think of it. Eventually, they reached a large stone trap door. Two of them inserted a key into a lock a few feet away, leading Clara and the Doctor down a stone staircase, while the other three took the rear.

“We have to keep it low tech,” one of the group explained. He had fairly long orange hair, and looked far too young to be fighting a war. “Else the Cybermen would find us. Can scan for metal, those monsters.”

“So, this is like your secret hideout, is it?” Clara asked.

“It’s the best we have,” he said. “Ko Sharmus, by the way. These are Kiev, Reg, Dawn, and Leona. And you’re…”

“Clara Oswald. He’s the Doctor,” Clara said, pointing at the man next to her with her thumb. He was currently muttering something about the TARDIS. “Come to think of it, Doctor, where _is_ the TARDIS?”

“Good question,” said the Doctor. “It’s parked on top of the Cyberman spaceship, in a completely different time. Bit difficult to get to it, right now, but we’ll manage.”

“Do you…have a plan?” Clara asked.

“Yes.”

“A plan that doesn’t involve thinking of a plan?”

“…no.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Why did they send the Cyberium back in time?” Clara asked.

“It was dangerous, yeah?” Ko Sharmus explained. “All the knowledge of the Cybermen, and its own highly intelligent entity as well. We stole it, the rebellion.”

“Rebellion?” The Doctor asked. “This is no…rebellion, it’s war!”

“The Cybermen have won,” Dawn said. She had short blonde hair that was shaved close to her head. “We’re the idiots who keep denying it.”

“So, you stole the Cyberium, and sent it back in time so the Cybermen couldn’t reach it?” Clara asked.

“Yeah,” Ko Sharmus said. “They can only travel back so far—it’s rather rudimentary. But we thought it would be—”

“The Artron Energy readings!” The Doctor said suddenly.

“The Cybermen must’ve travelled back in time to get it,” said another rebel, with long dark hair braided into cornrows, although one portion of it had been burnt away. Leona, Clara remembered. “We’ll have to send it farther.”

“But how do you know it’ll be far enough?” Clara asked.

“Their capacities were straining,” said Reg, a tall, middle-aged man with a scar across his face. “They barely reached it. If we send it back…a few hundred more years should be good enough.”

“Problem is,” Ko Sharmus said, “we don’t have enough power. And you don’t have enough time.”

“I’m a Time Lord,” the Doctor said. His face was tight, the lines even more visible than usual. “I’ll be _fine_ , just get me to your time travel equipment.”

“It’s sort of been destroyed,” Leona said. “Well, not quite. Destroyed, as in, some of it’s burnt, some of it’s in a million billion pieces, and some of it’s fried, but most of it’s salvageable…more or less.”

“Well, you’re not going to get anywhere with _that_ attitude,” the Doctor told her.

“We’ve been working on it,” Dawn added, tugging on her short brown hair. “Leona, mostly. Replacement parts are almost finished. But we don’t have the power.”

“Or the Artron Energy,” Leona added, shaking her head. “It’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Clara said.

“Its probability is infinitesimal.”

“Maybe,” Clara conceded. “You see him there? He’s the Doctor. And he’s very good at turning ‘impossible’ into—”

“It’s impossible,” the Doctor said, as they reached a large room. Metal plates, scavenged from Cybermen, were grouped together to form a large chamber. Wires spilled out from in between, like sparkling copper spaghetti. Lights flashed and blinked as gears clicked and whirred, and several pulsating blue circles were scattered across the structure.

“Doctor,” Clara said.

“What, do you want me to tell them it isn’t?”

“Yes.”

“Well it is!” The Doctor said. “You can’t expect to build a time machine out of _that_. You’ve got no Artron Energy for starters.”

“What… _is_ Artron Energy?” Clara asked hesitantly.

“Particles older than time itself—they group around temporal anomalies and complicated space-time events. Highly necessary for time travel,” the Doctor explained.

“And we’ve got zip,” Reg said.

“Uhm…” Clara said, thinking. _Temporal anomalies. Complicated space-time events._ “Have we got any around us?”

“Yes. But no. Not enough,” the Doctor said.

**Clara?**

“What?” Clara asked, annoyed, before realizing precisely what had happened. That was Me’s voice. And it was inside her head. Which meant—

**I’m about a mile from your location. Is it safe?**

“Not temporally, no,” Clara said.

“Who’re you talking to?” Ko Sharmus asked curiously.

“Good question,” the Doctor said, pointing at him. “Clara, who are you talking to?”

“Me,” she said truthfully, unable to resist.

“People don’t talk to themselves like that.”

“I’ll explain later,” Clara said. She looked over at the Doctor. His face was strained, the wrinkles even more evident. A silver tinge was starting to appear to his skin as the Cyberium worked its way through him. If she asked Me for Artron Energy from their TARDIS, then the Doctor would realize that she was in contact with her. Unless…unless she walked out to get it. In which case she would have to walk through a battlefield of Cybermen. And the Doctor would still want to know how she got incredibly rare particles from the dawn of time.

_I could pretend it’s him_ , Clara realized. _He’s here, in the future, with me, and he can’t meet his former self. Perfect!_

“Okay,” Clara said. “Now’s ‘later’, according to him. Well, you.” She saw that he didn’t understand. “It’s you.”

“You’re…talking to me?”

“You, from the future.” She tapped her head. “In my ear. You. Talking to me. Telling me what to do. I think I can get us some Artron Energy.”

“Well, then,” the Doctor said. “I’ll just go and nip up to my future TARDIS then and—”

“No,” Clara interrupted him. “The time streams would intersect and the universe would explode. That’s what he said. So, uhm, I need to go get them.”

“Excuse me?” Reg asked. “What’s a TARDIS?”

“Time and Relative Dimension in Space,” explained the Doctor.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” Clara interpreted.

“Its primary function is manipulating the time vortex and advanced long-range quantum teleportation.”

“It’s a time machine. And can teleport,” Clara said.

“And thus…Artron Energy?” Dawn asked.

“Right!” Clara said cheerfully. “Artron Energy. I’ll just go…pop out and get it, shall I?”

“There are _Cybermen_ out there,” said the Doctor in disbelief.

“You got a better idea?” Clara asked.

“Y—” the Doctor stumbled, falling into one of the large Cybermen plates. “Cyberium,” he muttered. Clara took one look at him, and ran, back through the tunnel and up the steps. With a button, she was able to push the rock aside, pulling herself up back onto the surface of the planet.

**I can give you directions** , Me told her. **There’s no more Cybermen in your area right now, so hurry.**

***

Burnt rubber. That was what it smelled like; Clara realized. The metal plates were covered in soot and ash, and a good portion of the room looked like it had been attacked with a flamethrower. Unconnected wires sizzled with energy; their ends chopped off by something sharp enough to shear their threads uniformly.

“Doctor?” Clara called. Nobody. The hideout had been abandoned, and the time machine destroyed. There was hardly enough light left. All the lights on the time machine had been turned off, except for one bulb which flickered sadly in the darkness. “Leona? Reg? Dawn? Ko?” Clara peered around anxiously. “Anybody? Hello?”

A bright blue light shone on the floor, catching her attention. Clara knelt down to take a closer look. Scooping up the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, she stared at it, fascinated. Standing up, Clara called out again. She shone it around the room like a flashlight. “Doctor?” Clara called. “What happened? Did the time machine—” The eerie blue light fell on a dirty footprint on the ground, far too flat and large to be from a human. “Guess that answers that question.” The sonic screwdriver buzzed.

**The Cybermen must’ve taken him** , Me said.

“Right,” Clara responded. “So where would they have brought him?”

**Let me see…they have a large ship, just leaving. Possibly teleported him there.**

There was a sound, a wheezing, groaning noise, as a TARDIS phased in. The scraps of razor-thin copper wire and calculation-covered paper that littered the floor began to flutter in the air, thrust backwards by the wind of the materializing rock. Me stepped out, raising eyebrows. She whacked the rock, the TARDIS, with the side of her hand, and winced in pain. Turning to Clara, she shrugged. “Chameleon circuit broken again.”

“Can we hurry up and find the Doctor?” Clara asked.

“Okay, okay,” Me said. “Don’t want time to be rewritten, I get it.” She stepped inside, seeming the pass straight through the grey stone. Clara followed her, entering the sterile white room inside.

“Setting temporal normative measures,” Clara announced, flicking a few switches. “You got spatial coordinates for the ship?”

“Yep!” Me said, typing something into the screen that they had installed recently, then pushing it around so that Clara could see. “Flagship coming right up!” The Time Rotor began to move again, up and down, up and down, as the TARDIS dematerialized and rematerialized inside the spaceship.

Clara poked her head out, seeing an empty metal hallway. This time, though, the walls had glowing blue circles, like the ones on the Cybermen’s chests. “Are you going to come with?” She asked Me.

“Better not,” Me frowned. “The Doctor seeing me could disrupt the causal nexus.”

“Where are they?” Clara asked.

“Behind that door,” Me said. “I’ll be in contact, but I should go. Don’t want them finding the TARDIS.”

“Right,” Clara smiled. “Walking straight into a room of Cybermen unarmed. Definitely not the most idiotic thing I’ve done.” She shook her head, then stepped towards the door. It opened automatically, revealing a large room full of Cybermen.

In the center were the Doctor and the group of rebels. Dawn was lying on the ground, presumably dead. Her eyes were wide open with shock. Meanwhile, Reg was being held by one of the Cybermen, clawing at the metal arm that was slowly crushing his windpipe. Ko Sharmus and Leona were missing, and the Doctor was conversing with one of the Cybermen.

“YOU WILL RELENQUISH THE CYBERIUM!”

“No!” The Doctor said. “No, no, no, no, no. _No._ I will not _relinquish the Cyberium_. I’m a Time Lord, and it’s found that I’m a rather good host—won’t leave me for the likes of _you_. Pure metal, with a little bit of organic matter in the center. It needs far more _life_ then a bunch of metal men.”

“Uh, Doctor?” Clara said. The Cybermen turned towards her with a massive clanking sound, an army of the perfect soldiers awaiting commands. It reminded Clara of something, once, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

“Clara!” The Doctor said. “Has he given you anything that might help?”

“You?” Clara asked. _Right. I said I was with future him._ “No. Uhm…you do have a plan, right?”

“Of _course_ I don’t have a plan. Who do you think I am?”

“YOU ARE CLARA OSWALD. YOU WILL TELL THE DOCTOR TO RELENQUISH THE CYBERIUM,” one of the Cybermen ordered.

“Shut up, rusty. I don’t take orders from wannabe robots,” Clara said.

“THE DOCTOR HAS THE CYBERIUM.”

“Yes, I do! And _you’re_ not going to get it!”

“INCORRECT.”

**Clara** , Me said. **I’m getting some very odd readings here.** ****

“Now is not the time,” Clara muttered.

**Artron Energy, concentrated in the third deck, section thirty—**

“Me?” Clara whispered. “Me? Are you there?” Nothing.

“Uh,” Reg said tentatively to the Cyberman holding him, “you seem to want to keep me alive, and you’re cutting off my air supply right now…”

“What?” The Doctor said. “Incorrect? What do you mean incorrect—and no, don’t start threatening these people here, because it’s not going to _work_.”

“INCORRECT,” one of the Cybermen repeated.

“Incorrect what? _What’s_ ‘incorrect’?”

“WE WILL AQUIRE THE CYBERIUM.”

“Oh, will you now?” The Doctor asked, pacing. “Clara, I’m done with them! They don’t _listen_? I say ‘no you won’t’, and they just deny it!” He pointed his sonic screwdriver at the door.

“YOUR TERMINATION WILL RELEASE THE CYBERIUM.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor, “but that’s not going to work, is it?” He stumbled, falling against one of the Cybermen, and righted himself. “Cyberium. Taking over.” He saw Clara’s expression. “It’s _fine._ We’ve got _plenty_ of time, compared to them.”

_He’s got a plan!_ Clara thought, triumphantly. The Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver in the air, but nothing noticeable happened.

“YOU WILL BE DELETED,” announced one of the Cybermen, and five of the silver soldiers fired their arm cannons before Clara could so much as duck. She winced, but instead of hitting her, the blast of blue energy flew backwards to strike the five Cybermen in the chest. They exploded in bursts of light, disappearing.

The Doctor grinned. “ _I_ reversed the polarity,” he said, making his sonic screwdriver light up. “Don’t—” He held out his hand just as five more Cybermen reversed their arm cannons, and shot towards him. “I re-reversed the polarity.” It came out the front end, again shooting the Cybermen in the chest. He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Now,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

“COMMUNICATION REQUEST DENIED,” announced one of the remaining Cybermen. There were ten left, lined up and facing the Doctor, Reg, and Clara. The one that had been holding Reg had disintegrated in the second wave of blasts, and he stumbled back, clutching his neck. Clara bent down over Dawn to feel her pulse, and wasn’t surprised when there was nothing.

“ _That_ ,” said the Doctor, “was not a request. _That_ was an order. What you’re going to do is turn around and _run_. Because you are not going to get the Cyberium from me! And you can’t shoot me!” He lit his sonic up again. “Maybe I reversed the polarity.” He shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t. There will be no silly shooting.”

“Yeah,” Reg said, “I don’t think they’re going to listen to that, Doc.”

“Not Doc,” the Doctor said. “Never ‘Doc’.” Clara shook her head, smiling, but the Doctor stumbled again, falling into her. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

“CORRECT. THERE WILL BE NO SHOOTING.”

“Now you’re getting it!” The Doctor said, grinning.

“YOU ARE A LIABILITY. YOU WILL BE DELETED.”

“But you _can’t_ ,” the Doctor boasted. “Your guns are useless against me! Always hated them, guns.”

“Doctor?” Clara said quietly. “They can still kill us. You know that, right?”

“Nope!” He said. He held his hand up to cover his mouth. “I reversed the polarity of their static electricity generation weaponizing boosters.”

“CORRECT,” announced the Cybermen, apparently able to hear them. “DELETE. DELETE.” But unlike the Cybermen Clara had seen before, on the battlefield in the 21st Century, they didn’t march towards her. Instead, they stood stock-still, their heads upturned and their eyes dark and blank. The Doctor held up a finger in the air, and for a moment, everything was silent. Then his eyes widened. “Run!”

Clara, Reg, and the Doctor pushed past the Cybermen just as the door slid open with a wave of the sonic screwdriver. “What?” Reg asked. The Doctor made the metal exit close behind them, and dashed down the steel corridor.

Turning around, he stopped, and beckoned them forwards urgently. “You know how I sent Leona and Ko to find the TARDIS?” Reg nodded urgently as Clara watched him in confusion. “We’re going to need it!” He rushed forwards, speeding through the corridor as Clara and Reg chased after him.

Every so often, he stopped to check the air with his sonic before opening an entrance to a new passageway or turning in a new direction. As they reached the fifth fork, Reg stopped, breathing heavily. “I…can’t…”

“They’re draining the oxygen,” the Doctor said grimly.

“Can they do that?” Clara asked.

“I just said that they were doing it, Clara, keep up. Hurry,” he said, grabbing ahold of Reg’s arm and pulling him forwards. Two doors later, the Doctor turned to Clara. Reg was leaning on him, barely able to drag himself along even with the Doctor’s support. “You’re fine?”

“Yep,” Clara said brightly, steering Reg towards the door that the Doctor had opened. “I thought we were hurrying?”

“You shouldn’t be fine,” the Doctor said in disbelief. “You’re _human_. Your respiratory systems are so inefficient it’s a wonder you can _walk_. You’re not _supposed_ to be fine.”

“Was in chorus a lot,” Clara said. _Great_ , she thought sarcastically. _Now I need to fake being out of breath, or else he’ll figure out that I’m…like this. Dead. Sort of dead. Not dead, but not alive either._ “My teacher made us sing these long notes as practice. Ms. Avril. Kids used to call her Ms. Evil.” _Good one_ , Clara complimented herself. She had always been an excellent liar. _Where did that come from?_ Clara wondered. _A memory. It’s important, but I don’t know…why_.

The Doctor seemed to accept it, and ran down the hallway. At the end of the hallway was the TARDIS, in the form of a police public call box from the 1960s, and the trio hurried towards it. Inserting his key into the lock, the Doctor fell forwards, catching himself just in time to avoid faceplanting on the TARDIS floor.

“Oh, oh my dear sweet planet,” Reg said, shaking his head in wonder. “It’s bigger on the inside!”

And so, it was. The Doctor’s TARDIS was even more beautiful than Clara remembered it, with its softly glowing thin white circles set into the dark grey walls and warm orange centerpiece rising up from the center of the console. The console glimmered with brightly-colored lights, contrasting sharply from the buttons’ dull grey framing. Two screens stuck out from it, one with a beautiful picture of three planets orbiting around an orange sun and one with several Gallifreyan markings spinning around each other over an orange background. At the sides of the circular room were two panels, full of flashing red and blue status lights. The second level was lit by blue roundels, an orange light emitted from their center. At the top of the Time Rotor, which was above the console, sat three rotating circular objects, each one slightly larger than the one below it, inscribed with the circular language of the Time Lords.

“Finally,” the Doctor said. “Someone who says it right. ‘It’s smaller on the outside,’ she said.” He pointed at Clara. “Can you believe it?”

“Maybe we should…get in?” Clara said tersely. “Before we suffocate?”

“You should,” he said, pointing at the TARDIS. Reg stumbled in, gazing awe-struck at the console.

“What about you?” She asked, confused.

“Cyberium,” he explained. “If I let it onto the TARDIS it will take over the machinery. But they have the power, here, to send it back. I just have to get rid of it—”

“The Cybermen are draining all of the oxygen!” Clara protested.

“Respiratory bypass system,” said the Doctor.

“That won’t last forever!” Clara responded.

“It’ll be long enough,” he said grimly. “Go. To the TARDIS. Now.” Then he turned, the red-lined navy coat of his flapping as he sped down the corridor. Clara ran after him, catching up.

“Doctor,” she said, trying to keep up with him as he ran.

“Go back to the TARDIS,” he tried to order her, stopping to unlock a door with his sonic screwdriver.

“No.”

The Doctor turned around angrily, then stared at her for a moment. He seemed to accept that she wouldn’t leave, and turned back to separator, opening it. “I should be able to track the energy source,” he explained as he dashed down the next corridor.

“Uhm…third deck in section thirty something,” Clara said, trying to remember what Me had told her. _I hope she’s alright, and it just cut off because of an Artron Energy source again._ “You told me. Future me, I mean you, told me to tell present you. Because he knew that I told him.”

“Which one?” He asked. “Thirty-what?”

“Er…don’t know.”

“Third deck,” the Doctor said. “That’s where we’re on. Section twenty-nine which means…” He opened the door with his sonic screwdriver to reveal a long corridor. At the end of it was a clear door, behind which blue energy arched around a metal sphere. “That’s our time machine,” said the Doctor. He stumbled again, his eyes turning pure silver for an instant before he regained control and sped towards the door with a sudden burst of speed.

Clara ran after him, struggling to keep up. He reached the door well before her, opening it with his sonic screwdriver and sliding through. Then he slammed it behind him. “Doctor!” Clara shouted.

“Go,” he said. “Whoever you are, go, and pray I don’t find you after this.” His voice was muted by the door separated them, but none of the inflection was lost. It was cold and harsh, and it hurt Clara like knives piercing her skin.

“Whoever I am?” Clara asked, confused.

“You,” he said loudly, “are _not_ Clara Oswald.”

“Yes, I am!” She protested, banging on the door with her fists. It didn’t shatter. _Glass_ , she thought. _But very, very strong_

“I am _insulted_ that you think I would _ever_ fall for that. I know Clara Oswald. You don’t talk like her. You don’t act like her. And your eyes. Your eyes are all wrong. Clara’s eyes are wide, I don’t know how she does that thing with the eyes, and yours are all small and _hard_.” He turned away, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the time machine. “Might take a while,” he muttered. “If you have hurt Clara when you stole her face, I will find you.” He sneered. “Now run.”

“Doctor!” Clara shouted, pounding on the door. _Is he right?_ Clara wondered. _Am I not Clara Oswald anymore? Clara would remember her mother’s souffle recipe, the color of her gran’s eyes, the voice of the man she loved whose name she can’t remember. Me lost her name so many trillions of years ago; why would she call herself Ashildr when the Viking girl who bore that name was long dead?_ Clara shook her head. “Doctor! You don’t understand!” He ignored her. “I _am_ Clara Oswald? Doctor, please!” Surely he was running on his respiratory bypass system by now.

_Should I go to the TARDIS?_ Clara asked herself. The Doctor was still working with the Cybermen’s time machine, having torn a portion of the metal sphere off and begun to connect the wires. Sparks flew around him, but he ignored them. “Doctor!” Clara tried again. “Please, you have to believe me, I’m from your future! Doctor, if you stay in there, you’re going to die! Please!”

Clara slumped against the wall, defeated, her hand trailing down against the glass door. “You bloody _idiot_!” The Doctor wasn’t anywhere near finished with restoring the time sphere, and she knew that he wouldn’t stop even if it was going to kill him. _He’s going to die_ , Clara thought, _and time’s going to be rewritten. Clara on Earth will keep waiting, and waiting, and waiting for him to come. A week will pass, but she’ll ignore it, because surely, it’s just the Doctor’s lousy piloting. And the days will slip by, and he won’t come, and Clara Oswald will never see the Doctor again. I’ll cease to exist._

Clara rested her head on the cool metal wall. If she could cry, she would, but working tear ducts didn’t come with being extracted from one’s time stream. Looking back through the window, Clara could see the Doctor lying on the ground. The Time Lord's chest wasn’t rising or falling anymore. The Doctor's time had run out.


	3. And Remember Me

_Clara rested her head on the cool metal wall. If she could cry, she would, but working tear ducts didn’t come with being extracted from one’s time stream. Looking back through the window, Clara could see the Doctor lying on the ground. His chest wasn’t rising or falling; his time had run out._

* * *

_No. This is_ not _happening. I am going to fix this, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m immortal. I can’t even get hurt…well, physically injured. It still hurts. But I’m sure not existing will be a lot worse._

Getting up, Clara backed away from the door until she had gone as far as she could go. Then, she ran at the door, bracing herself for impact as she rammed the glass and—

Clara fell back against the floor, her head spinning and her side aching as if she had just run into a brick wall. Thankfully, the pain dissipated after a moment because there was no physical damage to cause it. And there it was, a tiny little crack in the door. Razor-thin, but there, undeniably there. Carefully, she picked herself up and backed away, running at the door yet again. Twice more, Clara rammed the glass entrance.

On the fifth time, Clara burst through the glass as it shattered around her. She closed her eyes, keeping the tiny shards of glass out, but they pierced all over her. Clara hit the ground, screaming as she felt the glass dig into her skin. _It’s not real_ , Clara reminded herself, crawling towards the Doctor. There were no splinters in her; they had been sucked into the time vortex. Clara couldn’t change, couldn’t age or die or bleed. She wasn’t of this world, and now it was paying off.

Gradually, Clara picked herself up, moving over to the Doctor. She felt his pulse—buh buh buh bum, buh buh buh bum, buh buh buh bum. The double heartbeat of a Time Lord’s binary vascular system. It was weak, though. She had to get him out of here, and fast. Clara tried to pick him up, but found that he was much too heavy.

Something was leaking out of his nose, his mouth, his eyes—a silvery grey fluid that rose up in the air, floating. _The Cyberium_ , Clara thought, in awe. It settled down on her skin, but didn’t enter her. “Have to send it back,” she muttered. “How do I do that? Doctor, how do I do that?” But the Doctor was unconscious, unable to help her, and even if he was awake, he thought she was some sort of imposter. _And maybe I am._ “Is that what I am?” Clara asked. “Nobody? Just…just me?”

“No,” said a muffled voice that made Clara look up. “I’m afraid that name’s already taken.” Standing on the slivers of glass was Me. And behind her was the TARDIS, still stuck in the form of a rock. She was wearing an oxygen mask, since there was none left in the air, but Clara could see her smile behind it. Me walked over, kneeling by the sphere. “I’ve had eternity to learn how to do this,” she said, sticking her hand into the mess of wires that were spilling out from it. Clara began to drag the Doctor’s unconscious body towards her TARDIS, wincing as she pulled him over the glass shards on the floor. Me rolled her eyes, and closed up the sphere, holding her hand out in the air.

Clara stepped over to it, trying to push the Cyberium out into the time machine. “Come on,” she said. “Go. Go on.” It floated up from her hand, leaving a tingling feeling behind, and into the metal sphere. Then, Me pressed a few buttons on the bottom of the machine. It began to spin rapidly, causing Me to back away.

“Should be good,” Me said, wiping her hands on her dark shirt. “And now for the cleanup.”

* * *

“Five minutes.” Clara stood halfway inside of the Doctor’s TARDIS. It had developed that Me had lost contact due to the high level of Artron Energy in the ship, and had come back to check that Clara was alright. After taking the remaining rebels home, she had come back and materialized her TARDIS as close to the center of the readings as she could. “I’m sorry,” Me said genuinely, “but any longer and the timestreams will start to break down. You’re not meant to meet him again.”

“I understand,” Clara said, closing the door behind her. _No, I don’t_ , Clara thought. _I could tell him the truth. I could travel with him and we’d find a way to make sure time doesn’t break down! I know we could. What’s one more impossible story? Don’t I deserve a happy ending?_

 _No_ , she reminded herself. _We nearly tore the universe apart. One of us had to forget—we can’t travel with each other, or else we’ll become the Hybrid. Five minutes. Five minutes to say goodbye. Properly, this time. Even if he doesn’t know it._ The Doctor lay propped up against the stairs to the second level. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he was conscious. _Well, here it goes._

“Clara?” The Doctor asked.

“It’s me,” she said, kneeling down next to him.

“You’re not…no, you are. Your smile is right.” He continued to lay against the steps, still recovering from lack of oxygen. “Do your eyes always look like that?” The Doctor asked. “All wide and deep and sad.” They were silent for a few moments, staring at each other as the TARDIS hummed away in the background. “Why are you _sad_ , Clara? You’re Clara, I don’t know why I ever thought any different. But why are you _sad_? You should be _happy_! You’re about to go on a date with your boyfriend when I bring you back to Earth, you shouldn’t be all mopey.”

“Back on Earth,” Clara said quietly, “there is a girl named Clara Oswald, and she is having a great time. After this, you go pick her up, and you go take her somewhere wonderful. Because I may be a good liar, but I wasn’t lying when I said I was from your future.”

“That’s impossible…you travelled through time and space on the TARDIS, our time lines can’t cross out of order, or reality would be torn into _pieces_.”

“Yes,” Clara said. “Doctor…” _What do I say?_ Clara wondered. _What do I tell him? What should be the last words I ever say to the Doctor ever again?_ But she didn’t know. There wasn’t anything she could say, wasn’t anything that fit, that felt right. She looked out the window and saw Me holding up a single finger. One minute.

Clara leaned in to hug him, pressing her chin against his shoulder. “Are you still travelling with me?” The Doctor asked, drawing back.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Clara said. She stood up. “Never stop running, never stop saving people. And never stop believing in impossible heroes, because I’m looking at one right now.” She smiled, because suddenly she knew the exact right words to say. In millions of different times, Clara had said the same words to him. Sometimes he heard them. Most of the time he didn’t. Because Clara Oswald had a message that she always had to tell the Doctor. Clara walked towards the TARDIS doors. “Run, you clever boy,” she said, turning around to meet him in the eye. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “And remember me.”

* * *

Slowly, Clara lifted the cover of the diary. The last time she had written it was over half a century ago, and she had forgotten where she had placed the only record of her past life. After meeting the Doctor, Clara had searched all over the TARDIS until it took pity on her and lit up a trail to the room where she had hidden it. The first, crinkled page was stained like parchment paper. On it, in Clara’s neat handwriting, was:

_The Memories of Clara Oswald_

_The Impossible Girl_

Cautiously, as if afraid she might tear the page to shreds with one false move, Clara turned to the beginning of the diary. There was a picture, there, a picture of a man with a stubbly beard and short hair, dark skin and a smile with brilliant white teeth. It was taped to the book, and somehow it stayed stuck to the page. The colors had faded, over the years, and some of it was worn away. Clara had used to touch it, holding her memories of this man close, but she had worn away some of the paper over the centuries.

Blinking, Clara began to read the first page of the diary:

_My name is Clara Oswald, and I am the Impossible Girl. I was born to Ellie and Dave Oswald, and my mother’s maiden name was Ravenwood. Fitting, I suppose._

_I blew into this world on a leaf, and I will blow out of this world on the wings of a raven. Clara, when you’re reading this, you may have forgotten everything but you and Ashildr (or Me, if you’ve finally started calling her that) in the TARDIS. So, just like how Ashildr kept a diary of her present so that her future could remember, I will do the same._

_We travelled the world with a man called the Doctor. Even as I am writing this, memory of him fades in and out. First, he was young, with dark hair and a bowtie that he was obsessed with. Then he regenerated and became was a Scotsman, with grey hair and lines in his face. When people met the Doctor, they were scared of his appearance, but deep down, he was a wonderful person. Even if he liked to hide it. He doesn’t remember us; he had to forget because if we stayed together, we would become the Hybrid. He agonized over whether he was a good man or not, in his early days in his new face. We weren’t sure. But eventually, he decided he wasn’t—he was an idiot with a box._

_And what a wonderful box it was. The Doctor’s TARDIS was stuck as a police public call box, although I don’t think we’ll forget that anytime soon. He would leave the breaks on because he loved the sound. We met the Doctor because Missy gave his number to us in a computer repair shop, and he was absolutely mystified when we called him._

_We fractured ourself through the Doctor’s timeline to save him, sacrificing ourself in the process. Of course, he saved us. That’s what the Doctor does. He saves people. Then, he wonders why we believe in impossible heroes._

_And yet the Doctor was not the best person we have ever met. He was amazing, but there are things that we could never say to him. There was someone we were willing to betray him for. I don’t remember quite what we did, but we betrayed him once, for another wonderful person. There was fire and lava and so much smoke. We had to try so hard to keep from coughing, because then he wouldn’t believe we were serious._

_This man is Danny Pink, and we loved him, and he died. He was run over by a car and we literally went to hell and back to save him. Before he died, we were apologizing to him. We were apologizing over the phone, and he wasn’t paying attention to the road he was walking on. It was our fault, though he’d never say that. When we were talking to him, we told him that we loved him. That “I love you” were our words to him and we would never say them to anyone else ever again._

_He had a chance to cross back over, after everything was done, but he gave it up to save a child he had accidentally killed in battle. The Doctor was our idiot with a box, but Danny Pink was a good man. So, Clara-in-the-Future, you must never forget him._

Clara couldn’t cry—she was frozen in time, and her heart couldn’t beat and she didn’t even need to breathe. Her tear ducts wouldn’t let her. But she wanted to. Oh, god, she wanted to cry so much. Instead, all the pain stayed bottled up inside her, and Clara turned the page, unable to bear it.

_…and I remember our adventure now, the one with the flat creatures, from a 2D world. We met that boy—do you remember that boy? He was a graffiti artist, he’s the one who called us and told us that he had a tattoo counting down. Rigsby. That was the one. The TARDIS was all tiny, and had to go into siege mode. We tricked the 2D creatures into feeding it external dimensions by creating a graffiti drawing of a door handle they had made 2D. And we got to be the Doctor for a day. He was upset, of course, that we turned out to be such an excellent Doctor. That’s what lead to our death, after all; like Icarus, we flew too close to the sun…_

Clara let out an anguished cry, flipping more pages. They ripped and teared, some falling out of the book entirely, a flurry of pages and paper. White paper butterflies with torn wings, the memories they held flying away, forever lost as they fell from her past.

_…Me nearly met herself, today—we had to do everything to keep the timelines from crossing…_

_…was an evil group of robots who wanted to destroy time itself; we took care of them with a…_

_…and the skeletons sitting in the water—they were Cybermen all along, I remember…_

Forcing herself to calm down, Clara began to carefully flip through the diary, anxious to lose any more of her precious memory.

_…and she had the most amazing laugh. My gran would tell me stories when our mother was out. They were the same ones, over and over again, but we loved listening to them. We would memorize the words and she would leave gaps for us to fill them in. What was her name? Did it start with an A? A B? It could be Calliope or Ursula, for all I know. Her name, her name, what was her name? Oh, God, I can’t remember her name!..._

_…why can’t I remember?..._

_…he was dressed as a monk, I think. He never told me why. There was a girl, from a book, but I don’t know what she was doing there…_

Clara tore through the book, mesmerized by the neat black handwriting and the forgotten words. She was distantly aware of the door sliding open, of Me entering the room, but she ignored it in favor of her memories.

_…and I was so upset with those children. What were their names again? I was their nanny for years, but I can’t remember their names!..._

_…I think there was another me, there, but she was evil. And sort of not evil. There were Zygons, but I don’t know what they were doing, or how it ended!..._

_…and it was Trap Street, but I don’t remember why we called it that. Me will remember where it is, she wrote it down in her diary, so I can still go back there to face the raven…_

_…this place. It was a century ago, I think, or maybe more. But I try to remember and my brain swims with all the information. It’s too much, and I feel as if I’m drowning in a sea of half-forgotten memories…_

_…what’s the point in all of this? I’ve lived far longer than I’m supposed to, and I’m forgetting everything now…_

_…my mother’s hair. Was it brown, like mine? I don’t know, and I don’t dare cross my own timeline to check. I just want to remember her hair…_

_…and sometimes I can’t help but wonder what the Doctor’s eyes were like. Were we in love with him, once? I don’t know, and I don’t suppose I ever will…_

“Clara,” Me said. “Clara, what are you doing?”

“Reading,” Clara said quietly. “No, I’m remembering.” She looked down at the book.

_…and I thought, “I knew a girl named Courtney once.” I can’t seem to remember what she was like, though. I think she was nice. Sweet. But I can’t remember…_

_…I was reading through my notebook, and in the beginning, it says that we blew into the world on a leaf. How? What leaf? Was it green? Orange? Red? I had a leaf, once, and I gave it up, I think. It must not have been important to me…_

_…and I know that we can’t keep running forever, but that’s still a very long time…_

“You’re really thinking about doing it.”

“Going back?” Clara said. “Just go away. Please.”

“Clara, you’ve lived what, six hundred years? There’s trillions more to live.”

“I used to be so terrified of dying,” Clara said, her voice far-off. “I’m not now. Funny how once you die, you’re not scared of it anymore. I’ve faced my fears. And now it’s time to face the raven.”

“Are you sure?” Me asked.

“No,” Clara said loudly. “I’m not. Please, just leave me alone for a little bit.” Me slipped out silently, closing the door behind her and leaving Clara alone in the room.

_…and we truly thought that the Doctor was going to leave us there for the rest of our life. There was that lizard-woman, and her wife. I can’t remember their names or what they looked like. But he came back…_

_…I remembered something! The place where we worked, it was called Coal Hill School…_

_…Me ripped out a page of her diary at some point, and she has always regretted it. What did she want to forget so much? There are so many missing pages in our diary, and we don’t remember ripping them out. What was so horrible that we believed it worth forgetting?..._

_…I wish I could draw, maybe that would help me remember what people looked like…_

_…I saw a memorial for myself, when we accidentally ended up on Earth again. Clara Oswald. There were lots of flowers. I forgot how pretty Earth flowers were…_

_…there was this strange creature, and I think he was a general of something. Oh, I was so scared. That’s all I can remember: the fear and the darkness…_

_…I’m Souffle Girl for some reason and I can’t remember why…_

_…and we met this boy, Yaron. He was bright and excited, and he had nothing left of his home. I almost offered to let him travel with us, as that alien had asked me. I don’t remember what he was called, and lack the energy to look it up. But just before we beat back the Daleks, he fell, and I found his body broken on the ground. How easy it is for these human bodies to break…_

_…art lessons from Da Vinci; there was this strange man there who kept talking to Da Vinci like an old friend. All curls and these giant eyes that popped out of his face. He had this giant scarf, too. Terrible dress sense…_

_…how did I celebrate my birthday when I was a kid? It seems so pointless, now. It’s just another day, when you’ve lived for five hundred years…_

* * *

Clara stepped into the TARDIS console room. She wore a blue sweater, the same blue sweater that she had worn on the day of her death. “I’m ready,” she said.

“No,” Me insisted. “You can’t just go…it’s been so little time.”

Clara smiled sadly. “It’s been six hundred years, Me.”

“And now you’re going to go too. Another immortal who wasn’t trying to kill me, and she decides to go to her _death_ ,” Me said forcefully.

“It’s my choice,” Clara said. “And I’m ready. I saw the Doctor, Me, I saw the Doctor and he smiled and looked into my eyes. I don’t want to forget that. I don’t want to lose my diary and forget everything about who I am. Maybe I already have. But I don’t want to die as someone else, someone who’s not me. For the first time in so very long I’ve remembered who I am. My name is Clara Oswald, and I have loved and I have lost and I have _lived_. I had a story, and it was bloody good. And now it’s time for it to end.”

Me looked over at her, into her eyes, and saw her resolve. _It’s time to face the raven_ , Clara thought silently. “Fine,” Me said. She pulled a lever, set in a few coordinates, and the TARDIS began to teleport itself away. Then it phased in, the brakes still on. Vrwoorp, vrwoorp, vrwoorp. It was the most wonderful sound in the world. “I can’t go with you,” she said, smiling slightly. “The Time Lords aren’t exactly friendly with me. They don’t like immortals.”

“That’s fine,” Clara said, walking to the door. “Goodbye. Just…”

“What?” Me asked.

“You’re not alone, Me. The Doctor has lived for such a long, long time, and he’s never alone.”

“So?” She asked. “You’re leaving. Then it’ll be just Me again. Travelling in the TARDIS. Me, myself, and I.”

“You don’t have to be,” Clara said. “You don’t have to be Me. It’s not just you, there’s other people in the world.”

“They all leave in the end,” Me said.

“Yep,” Clara told her. “But if you run hard enough, you can get in a good life. And that’s the beauty of time travel. It’s another chance.”

“Maybe,” she replied, devoid of hope.

“Ashildr,” Clara said, “you have a wonderful name. Use it. Please.”

“Ashildr,” Me said, her voice suddenly light. “Was that my name?”

“Yes.”

“It was so long ago,” Me said wistfully. “I was so young back then.” She considered it. “Ashildr. I like that name.”

“Bye,” Clara said, opening the TARDIS door. It was so simple, far too simple for the final parting of two very good friends. She pulled Ashildr into a hug, wrapping her hands around the shoulders of her fellow immortal. But even immortals have to die, when their time comes. Everyone must face the raven in the end.

“Goodbye, Clara Oswald,” Ashildr said. Clara slipped out of the console room, onto the dusty red surface of Gallifrey.

It was a long walk to the Citadel, but Clara went towards the shining city, step by step. When she reached the gates, her shoes were streaked with the rust-colored sand. A group of Time Lords waited for her there, just as she had expected.

“You should not have come here, Miss Oswald,” a bald, dark-skinned woman told her. “You know what we have to do.”

Clara smiled. “I’m ready,” she said. “Bring be back.”

* * *

Clara stepped out of the clean white room, back onto the cobblestone of Trap Street. The darkness of the evening was lit by the light that escaped through the cracks in the shutters of the houses. Everyone had fled from this alleyway, for death by Quantum Shade was a terrifying thing to witness.

A step forward, and then another. The raven hovered in midair, frozen in time and ready to enter her. Clara hadn’t breathed in a long, long time. What was the point, when she didn’t need it? But now, she did. It was the only thing keeping her brave, the only thing that allowed her to walk towards her death for the third time. In, out. It was such a strange feeling, both exhilarating and frightening at once.

“Let me be brave,” Clara whispered. She could see the Doctor watching from the shadows. Clara had told him not to—knowing that he was there would make it even harder for her. But she hadn’t expected him to listen. Clara sighed. He hadn’t listened to her either, when he told her to stop, that he couldn’t save her, that her time had run out. And because of that, he forgot her. Because he refused to just let her die.

 _Here I am_ , Clara thought. _Dying._ She breathed again, enjoying the feeling of air passing through her lungs, as she turned around to see the Extraction Chamber behind her. She nodded to the General, who nodded back respectfully, and then turned back around to face the raven.

 _Well_ , she thought, _if Danny can do it, so can I._ She’d said the same thing, centuries ago (minutes ago), when she’d learnt that there was nothing Ashildr could do to save her.

“Let me be brave,” she whispered again, as the Extraction Chamber glowed white and began to close its portal. Clara had seconds to live. “Let me be brave.”

And then it happened, as time began again. Years, Clara had lived without it, and now, it was the strangest sound in the universe.

Bah-Bum. A heartbeat. A final heartbeat.

Then the raven entered her, her arms held out to her sides, her face upturned to face the sky.

_A little girl giggled as her mother pushed her on the swings._

_A ten-year-old read aloud a passage of a book in class, her voice clear and confident._

_A dark-haired girl peered over her mother’s shoulder, reading the souffle recipe in the cookbook._

_A young woman stood by her mother’s grave, wiping the tears from her eyes._

_A twenty-four-year-old watched two children playing, wishing that she had gone travelling instead of agreeing to watch a family friend’s kids._

_A dark-haired woman stared in shock as a little girl’s head rotated around to reveal nothing but clear glass, shaped like a spoon._

_A lost young woman stared out at nothingness, calling desperately that she didn’t know where she was._

_A brave girl who wanted to be a hero was falling through reality, splintering herself through the Doctor’s timestream._

_An uncertain Clara held out her hand, knowing that if this strange new man really was the Doctor, he would come back for her._

_A twenty-eight-year-old stood in front of the Doctor, throwing the TARDIS keys into lava one by one._

_A dark-haired woman faced the raven on Trap Street, and whispered “let me be brave”._

_A young woman in a waitress’s outfit listened to the beautiful melody that came from the Doctor’s guitar, and suggested that some memories become songs._

_An impossible girl laughed with Ashildr as they learned to pilot the TARDIS._

_An immortal woman picked up a young child and carried him out of the fire._

_A weary Clara tried to remember her mother’s name._

_A woman so much older than she seemed watched a Dalek ship explode._

_A deep-eyed time traveler watched as Cybermen destroyed a world._

_A dark-haired immortal looked into the Doctor’s eyes._

_Souffle girl smiled._

And Clara screamed.


End file.
